New York, NY (Top40 Charts) Inventive and ambitious, Mark Ciani is a dedicated craftsman, forever "pushing his musical boulder up an eternal hill." With an ever-flowing stream of creativity, he meticulously sculpts each album, distilling dozens of tracks into cohesive bodies of work that navigate the vibrant, beautiful, and often murky, delicate parts of life with precision and finesse. Rooted in an indie-rock sound, Ciani's music is a fearless exploration of the human experience—poignant, cathartic, and deeply attuned to the intricacies of relationships.
The Catacombs is Ciani's eighth album co-producing with Grammy-winning producer and engineer Fernando Lodeiro—and the duo has never been more in sync. After the sweeping, melodramatic rock epics King of Death and King of Death Returns—a self-proclaimed "mission accomplished," and the dark, intimate exploration of the futility of ambition and the twisted sides of love in Sad Robot—Ciani embarks on a bold new chapter—shedding creative constraints and embracing artistic freedom. This latest collection pushes his storytelling and musicianship to new heights, exploring the fragility of peace and comfort and inspecting the countless ways people sabotage their own paths to peace. With masterful misdirection and a sharp eye for detail, Ciani breathes life into characters brimming with charisma and complexity, as each song unfolds with sticky intrigue. Brilliantly blending raw emotionality, rock sensibility, and daring perceptiveness, The Catacombs stands as his most compelling piece yet, an irresistible invitation to lose oneself in worlds hauntingly familiar or thrillingly alien.
From the first note to the final fade, it's an immersive journey—no two tracks are alike, and none conform to a square mold. Each track plays a distinct role in shaping the album's narrative, seamlessly blending ethereal and brooding indie rock influenced by Ciani's refined musical taste: listeners will hear whispers of Big Star, The Beatles,
David Bowie, Wilco, and many others within its rubbery basslines, ringing piano chords, and bouncy synthesizers. Jeni Magana's delicate harmonies weave together with Ciani's sensitive vocals as if they have always been singing together.
Its raw, true-to-life quality is rooted in Ciani's sharp perception—he pulls shiny threads from the world around him, from personal experiences to world events. "
Catch My Breath" helped to shape the album's tone; seeped in melancholy, it emulates the panic of gasping for air when everything feels like it's falling apart. As the album progresses, Ciani plunges listeners into an ultra-relatable spectrum of emotions—detachment, disappointment, even obsession. Songs like "73 Seconds" pull from unimaginable disaster, while tracks like "Lousy Sunday Breakfast" and "Too Wise to Enjoy" spring from overheard gossip, all reinforcing a sobering truth: "Tragedy can always be set in motion." Yet, it's "Some Kind of Purgatory"—with an accompanying lyric and music video already released that stands out drawing viewers into the shadowy depths of isolation while hinting at an indestructible tenacity.
Despite its bleak lyrical flair, The Catacombs is a delectable listen—wistful, wise, and wonderfully entrancing. While real-life catacombs are places where lives and relationships are stored in secret, buried—left to decay without a sound—Ciani's Catacombs invites listeners in, leaving audiences hungry and awestruck, aching to devour it again and again.
